The Locket, The Letter and The Lost Girl
by Bekki
Summary: A series of moments, bound together by their Wibbly Wobbly connection to a wolf-child and her necklace. Ten/Rose
1. The Locket

**The Locket, The Letter and the Lost Girl**

Summary: A trio of moments, bound together by their Wibbly Wobbly connection to a wolf-child and her necklace. Ten/Rose

Disclaimer: I a poor one am. Nothing do I have. Freely do I give

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"Doctor…"

The Doctor grinned sheepishly as his companion groggily slurred his name. Rose Tyler. Calling him in her sleep. He made a mental note to tease her for it later. He could picture it in his head. Her cheeks would darken just a little, she'd deny it to the moon and back (maybe even to Raxacoricofallapatorius) and then she'd stick her tongue out from under her teeth and slyly suggest that he really just wanted her to be calling out his name…

Oh dear…was he fantasizing?

He'd never been one for fantasies before. Ooh, was this new new Doctor a romantic? A fantasizing, romantic, closet Mills and Boone author?

No.

No, really. No. Just…no…

"Doctor?"

And now she was awake.

"Hello," he said, voice warm and smile deep. By Rassilon, he _was_ a romantic. Disgusting.

"Hello," Rose said back, her eyes dark with sleep. She took in a deep breath, and her eyes glazed over with confusion. She wrinkled her nose and squinted. "Oh," she said after a moment, "Apple grass."

He smiled down at her. She was just a little bit cute when she was recovering from possession. Generally, a brain invasion like the one Cassandra had just performed would leave a humanoid unconscious for a good day or so. But Rose Tyler was up and about. Well, she was up. Well…she was semi-conscious.

He wondered whether it was excess energy from the Bad Wolf that kept her awake. He liked to think that he had absorbed every last morsel of vortex from within her, but her remarkable recovery from the day's brain compression was evidence to the contrary. She ought to have been completely passed out for another ten hours at least. Her breathing ought to have been shallow and her heart beat erratic, but here she was, Rose Tyler, just a little bit sleepy and incoherent. And cute.

She had lasted a remarkably long time after being freed from Cassandra's control. She had stayed with him while he debriefed the hospital staff and had comforted and talked to the post-sick, the new new residents of New New York. She hadn't quite lasted the journey back. Once the clean streets had given way to the freshly mown apple grass of the outer city, Rose's legs went in a similar fashion. Her knees had given way and her eyes had rolled to the back of her head. She had murmured incoherently and The Doctor had no choice but to scoop her up in his arms and carry her the rest of the way to the TARDIS. She had nuzzled his chest and called his name, but had not succumbed to unconsciousness. He had wondered if perhaps she was too scared she would wake up as a prisoner in her own mind again.

When they had returned to the TARDIS, she stood on her own, a little disoriented and unsteady on her feet. The Doctor had suggested she sleep, but the TARDIS made her queasy. Entropy-sickness. Caused by the inner-out of body experience, a little bit of Timey Whimey, and a whole lot of recently departed vortex, namely the Bad Wolf. Rose's body needed a good detox. A bit of normalcy. And what was more normal than a picnic-style nap on the apple grass of New Earth? Nothing at all. Well, a few things…well…

So Rose had taken a shower (The Doctor had uncomfortably hovered outside the bathroom, in case he heard her fall…and decidedly not allowed his new new mind to wander over the sound the water was making as it cascaded down her shoulders…Oi! Enough Mills and Boone!), changed her clothes and promptly fallen asleep on his lap on the apple grass on New Earth.

He looked back down at her to find her asleep again, her head nestled into his stomach. He smiled and lay back on the soft grass, watching the medical aircraft fly to the hospital.

He took in a deep breath of sea and apple and Rose. New noses. He always forgot how efficient they were when they were new. Efficient and in this case, a vast improvement. He'd done quite well if he had to say so himself. Which he did have to considering the only other person that might have told him so was currently passed out on his stomach.

She thought so too. Well, Cassandra had said she had. She might have lied. She might have lied in order to get some kind of hook into Rose, or some kind of something into someone to get her something something…

Ah, why try to explain it away? He was foxy and she liked it. Ten points for the tenth incarnation.

The wind blew Rose's hair over her face and he brushed it back, careful not to wake her. It must have been hard on her, seeing him change like he did. But here she was, by his side, suffering the ill effects of traveling with him. Yet again. Sometimes he didn't know why she bothered. Nearly every day she ran for her life. Nearly every day she feared for it and nearly lost it, but every day she was still there with a smile and her hand out for him to hold.

But then there were some days where there was no running, or at least there was stillness after the running, Like now. Well, maybe not right now. She was a little too unconscious to appreciate the serenity of the afternoon. The sun was bright, the moons were glowing in the distance in their mid-afternoon, New Earth way, the apple grass was blowing and they were together. But now she was snoring. Not quite the serenity he had pictured.

He chuckled.

"What?" Rose grumbled, her eyes fluttering open under her lashes.

"Nothing," he answered, grinning like a school boy.

"You were laughing at me," she accused, groggily.

"You were snoring," he countered.

"I was not."

"You were."

"Was not!"

"You were!"

Oh dear. Was this the sort of man he was? Arguing like a little boy? Hardly fitting for a Timelord of 900 years.

Terrible fun, though.

He poked his tongue out at her. She returned the gesture in kind.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, as she sat up.

"Fine," she answered. "It's a little quieter in here, but I can definitely handle that. Why aren't you down for the count?"

"Superior Timelord brain capacity," The Doctor answered, tapping his forehead. "Luckily for me, when you store a thousand years in here, one extra consciousness doesn't do all that much damage. You on the other hand…" he trailed off, looking at her in concern. "You should be resting."

"And waste this?" she asked, looking around her. "I wouldn't waste a minute, Doctor."

His hearts squished together in a warm, sloshy, squishy squick of goop. Ah yes, this incarnation was sentimental. And romantic. Not particularly articulate when it came to maudlin adjectives. Perhaps not a Mills and Boone author, after all.

More's the pity.

Rose looked up at him, from under her dark lashes and her tongue peeked out at him from under her teeth. Just as he had pictured. Imagined. Fantisi…

He was fighting a losing battle.

"What?" she asked again, smiling woozily.

"What?" he repeated back to her, sweeping his non-fantasies out of his new new brain. Unfortunately, he had been right just before in saying that extra thoughts could inhabit his brain without much consequence. So the little fantasy took hold somewhere behind his ear and made a nest there, pumping over-stylized pictures of a tongue-poking Rose Tyler through his conscious and sub-conscious mind at annoying intervals. Multitasking was not always all it was cracked up to be.

He focused on the Rose Tyler who was actually in front of him. Well, on top of him. She was absent-mindedly twirling a little heart in her hand. A little silver heart hanging from a chain on her neck. The Doctor cocked his head and looked at it. He had never seen that one before.

"What's that?" he asked.

Rose cocked her head back at him, looking for all New Earth like a little puppy. The Doctor grinned at his own comparison.

"Necklace," she answered, sitting up again. The Doctor was decidedly not disappointed that she wasn't directly touching him anymore. Decidedly. Not. "I've had it for ages," she continued, going slightly cross-eyed to look at the little heart in her hand. Which wasn't at all cute. Not at all.

She ran her hand around the chain on her neck, flicking her hair out of her way. It brushed past The Doctor's face and he pushed it away, curling it back around her ears without a second thought. Rose found what she was looking for; another tiny heart that had run around the chain and found itself on the back of her neck.

"Two hearts," she said, holding them both out on the chain in front of her. "Just like you." She grinned.

The Doctor grinned back, lazily, one hand twirling the apple grass beneath him, the other still hovering close to her hair.

"I've had it since I was a kid," she continued. "Came home with it one day, I think. I don't remember, really. I was about seven. Mum thought I stole it from Mandy Bowles. Has her initials on it, see?" She leaned over to show him the tiny faded letters, one on each heart. He could vaguely see an M and a B, etched into the silver. Mostly he could see Rose's dark eyes looking at his, only inches away.

The hand that had previously been in and around her hair was now tracing the letters, in innocent intimacy. For a second, at least.

"Ooh!" he squeaked, tearing his hand away after that second. He bumped heads with Rose and she swore at him, laughing.

"What?" she asked, letting go of the hearts and letting them dangle on her chest.

"You necklace gave me the tingles," he accused, eyebrows furrowed. Rose giggled at him. The Doctor wriggled his fingers. "Excess time-radiation," he murmured, although the reaction seemed much too great for radiation to be the full extent of it. "Were you wearing this on the game station?" he asked.

"It was in my pocket. For luck."

"What?"

"Two hearts," she said, and her cheeks darkened just that little bit. Lovely. "They make me think of you."

He grinned again. "My two hearts." Right where they belonged. How fitting. How lovely, and perfect and metaphoric and romantic and sappy and maudlin and disgusting and…

This new Doctor needed to harden up fast or he would end up a blob of goo on the floor…well, apple grass.

Rose's head was in his lap again, stroking her necklace. Her eyes fluttered closed and she murmured. The Doctor smiled and chuckled. Rose Tyler. Couldn't even hold a completely conversation. But she held his two hearts in her hand, literally. Well…literally held a pair of sterling silver hearts that symbolized his two organic hearts.

"Doctor," she murmured again, eyes closed and cheeks pink. And in one fell swoop, he was back to where he started. Fantasies and apple grass and Rose.


	2. The Loss

A/N: This chapter was never supposed to exist in this story, but the first and second (yet to be posted) chapters are separated by a large gap in time. This companion chapter bridges that gap and gives a little Ten!Closure. rest assured, there will be more happy!doctor to come...

_Enjoy_

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**TARDIS, Unknown Location**

**Four Months After Bad Wolf Bay**

He watched as Martha slept next to him. Peaceful and content. The TARDIS hadn't provided her with a room yet, so she had settled in one of the many nooks of the control room, blanketed and warm.

She hadn't had any pyjamas. He went to get her some.

Instead he found it.

The locket. The necklace. Rose in sterling silver.

He held the chain in his hands and listened as the silver hearts tinkered down and clashed together at the lowest point of the chain. He flipped the necklace around to listen again. Over and over, the rhythm of Rose's silver hearts comforted him and drove him into deep melancholy.

He wished she had taken it with her.

A memento. A symbol of him, of them to comfort her in her solitude. Not that she was alone of course. There was Jackie and Mickey and Pete and the little one to come. How his hearts had leapt when she spoke of it. The baby.

He had thought it had been hers. Her s and Mickey's. He was disgusted and intrigued by the jealousy and the relief that had been mixed into his loss when she had said it. Jealousy that it could never have been his. Relief that she might live a loved life.

How she had changed him. He was so human now. Jealousy over a child that realistically could never have been his, of a relationship he could never have reached out and taken. He might have if she were still here. She had changed him in so many ways; it was not such a big stretch to believe she'd make that change in him too. Make a man out of him. A real, loving, complete man.

He hadn't been able to say the words she had wanted to hear. He had thought them, they had burst through his mind like fire but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Selfish. And completely unhelpful. Now they just rolled through his mind like molten sludge, begging to be let out to anyone and everyone.

He had as much as told Donna. He had basically blurted it to Martha.

He wasn't supposed to do that. He wasn't supposed to bleed one companion onto another. But he was bleeding. He was bleeding from the inside out and everything he touched was getting soaked in it.

He dropped the necklace. He couldn't stand the tingling.

It was as though it still tingled just to spite him. To show him that the energy of the Bad Wolf was never ending. Even though their song was over. Rose Tyler and The Doctor. Never to meet again.

He slipped the necklace in his breast pocket. It sat there, tingling and stinging and biting and swearing. He shivered. He would have to take it out soon. It was too uncomfortable. It smelt of paradox, but he wasn't really sure why. Metal and time-radiation and paradox. Only a hint of Bad Wolf.

He had once thought the Bad Wolf was eternal, stretching far beyond his time with her. That it had brought them together, brought her to him and brought her to the Earth in atoms and cells for him. And that in its creation it had seen him wither and die, only to be reborn as hers, for her alone.

She had been made to save him and so he had been made for her.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the necklace out again. It was too uncomfortable. He traced the letters as he had done on New Earth, but saw not the letters of a forgettable primary friend, but the letters eternal, that had brought her to him and him to her.

BW.

_Bad Wolf._

And his hearts broke all over again.

Even as a child of seven it was there. Waiting, biding its time, calling him to her. A message to lead her to him. How could he have missed it before? His own branding, his primal ownership, for all of time and space to see, printed on her chest from the age of seven.

He had been right.

And it broke him to know it.

He was fire and raging lava once more, but of course, it had no purpose. How did it help him to know that it was destined, now that she was gone? Just another reminder that he had ruined the life that had been so beautifully determined by the vortex, outside of time and dimension.

He could not do this to himself. Oh, how he wanted to, but he had to let go. It would be a waste to let himself be destroyed for the love of her.

Not when it couldn't save her.

He stood with new purpose, careful not to wake Martha, and wandered the TARDIS, hoping she would show him the room he had till now been avoiding. He found the right door. He leaned on it. He ran a hand over it. And he opened it.

His senses were overloaded with Rose. She was there, in the smells, in the pictures over her mirror and the colours of her bedspread. She was there, everywhere, eternal.

He sat on the bed and took in the brightness. It was unfair that the empty room could be so bright. So innocent of the fact that she would never come back.

He held the necklace in front of him and his eyebrows furrowed. He could feel his lips growing taut and the back of his mouth sting. He swallowed and cleared his throat. His other hand idly stroked the bedspread and it caught up in his fingers in swirling patterns. The material scratched and ruffled in his fingers like a toneless song, the tinkering and tingling of the necklace joining it.

It had to stop.

The tingling, the bleeding of his insides in the word that had once meant a flower but now held everything.

Rose.

He placed the necklace on the bedspread and immediately grieved that absence of the tingling under his fingers. He stood and walked toward the door, the soft thud of his feet on the floor jarring his ears. In his head there was fire and rage and grief and waterfalls of Rose.

But there was also silence and decision.

He closed the door. He knew the TARDIS would not show it to him again.

It was over.

He was alone. Alone with his two silver, bleeding hearts.


	3. The Letter

**Chapter Three: The Letter**

.

.

_He had once thought the Bad Wolf was eternal, stretching far beyond his time with her. _

_That it had brought them together, brought her to him and brought her to the Earth in atoms and cells for him. _

_And that in its creation it had seen him wither and die, only to be reborn as hers, for her alone_.

.

.

**The TARDIS, 2011**

**5 years, a year that never was, three months stuck in 1969, and three weeks after that first time on Bad Wolf Bay. Give or take...**

"Doctor!"

The Doctor tore his eyes from the TARDIS console for the briefest of moments, in order to analyse the Scottish shriek. It didn't sound frightened, it didn't sound threatened and it didn't sound all that immediate either. Good. Very good. He was in the middle of some very important tinkering business and didn't need to be disturbed.

"Doctor?"

Ah.

Amy Pond. The Scottish redhead with the uncanny ability to sneak up on Time Lords.

"Pond," he responded, wishing that he was upset or annoyed with the intrusion. As it happened he was quite thankful for it, because he really wasn't sure why he was fiddling with the console, although he was fairly sure that any more tampering might have caused some kind of temporal shift, and let's face it, he wasn't nearly bored enough to clean up a catastrophe like that!

…or was he?...

"I found this." Amy presented a present. At least, it looked like a present. The Doctor had to admit he hadn't seen a real bonified present with his new eyes. Not that they were _that_ new anymore. That _that_ new, at least.

Perhaps he ought to have seen a present by now. Good grief, perhaps he ought to have given Amy and Rory a wedding present. Was that what this was? Amy Pond, passive-aggressively suggesting that he had forgotten to buy her and her new husband a wedding present? Well, he had shown them time and space, had he not? Surely that was enough. He couldn't very well wrap the TARDIS in gift wrap and ribbons now, could he?

…or could he?...

"Is it for me?" he asked, hopefully, deciding that the present wasn't a display of aggression. Not very Amy Pond, really, passive-aggression. Maybe she had just bought him a present. That would be nice. It wasn't all that often that his companions gave him presents. Well, except for Christmas. And that one time Ace had given him a shoe horn. Now what was a Time Lord to do with a shoe horn? Honestly…

But that was a long time ago now. The dim memory of a Doctor past…

"I don't know," Amy replied. "You didn't leave it?"

The Doctor rifled through his memories. "Nope," he said. He had been right. Never seen this present nor any present with his pretty-boy blues.

Amy shook the little box in its purple wrapping. The box jingled. It jingled the jingle of a lightweight metal object, most probably fashioned into some kind of chain. Time Lord ears – brilliant!

"Rory!" she yelled. Time Lord ears – severely impeded. The Doctor shook the ringing of the Scottish shriek out of his ears. None of his other companions had ever been this loud. It was unseemly. Sarah Jane? Lovely. Martha Jones? A trifle high pitched at times, but only when she was scared. Donna Noble…ah…right…

Perhaps it was a ginger thing. Would he be all shrieks and yells when he finally regenerated into a ginger? The Doctor looked at Amy and crinkled his nose. He somewhat hoped not.

His ginger-related musings were interrupted by one Mr Rory Pond.

"Amy," he said, puffing ever so slightly. He ran the whole way to them? The Doctor wondered from where. Library? Swimming pool? No, his hair was dry. Maybe he was just a little unfit, the old Rory Pond. Maybe he should encourage more running. Boxercise? Synchronized…no, no – unwelcome mental images with that one…

"Did you leave this for me?" Amy asked, eyes all a-glitter and hand prodding the little present into Rory's personal space. Rory looked at The Doctor out of the corner of his eye, as though checking to see if he himself had left it. The Doctor shook his head. Trust Rory to still be concerned he was trying to steal his girlfriend…wife, even.

"Wasn't me," Rory said, seemingly once he was satisfied that it was not The Doctor who had left his wife a present, in the hopes of stealing her away in the middle of the night. To be fair, he had done that once. But that was different. He hadn't known there was a Rory. He hadn't known there was a connotation to it at all, actually. More fool him.

"Well…" Amy drawled, her voice low and excited. "Can we open it?" She was practically bouncing with anticipation. Trust Amy Pond to be jumpy as a skunk all over a little paper-covered box. Humans.

Wait. Skunks didn't jump, did they? Only hooved skunks from the second moon of Gyrocorporus. Perhaps the hooves helped with the jumping.

"I don't think we should," Rory said, bringing the doctor out of his springing-skunk day dream. "There's something funny about it." He crinkled his nose. "Don't you feel it, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked Rory up and down once, before sticking his hands in his pants pockets. "Rory Pond," he said, receiving a look of disdain. Perhaps he should stop with the 'Pond' thing. It seemed to be sending poor Rory quite batty. Perhaps that was why he did it. Was he this much of a trouble maker in his last generation?

Oh yes…definitely yes.

"Are you telling your wife not to open a fun little pocket gifty, just because your stomach has gone wibbly wobbly?"

Wibbly wobbly without the timey whimey…he wasn't sure how he felt about that…

"Well…" Rory spluttered, crinkling his face into a self-confidence shield, "I dunno. It just seems a bit fishy, doesn't it? A present in your TARDIS that you don't know about?"

The Doctor pondered. "You make a fair point, Mr Williams," he said, testing the surname boundary. Rory's eyes seemed to slacken around the edges, possibly out of relief. Amy's on the other hand, rolled in her sockets and The Doctor laughed on the inside. "Although, there have been a few people in here over the years. Who knows what little gifties they might have tried to leave for each other?"

"Exactly," said Amy, although it seemed she hadn't really listed to a word he had said, much too eager to open the little mystery box. Rory, noticing his wife's tunnel vision, gave the Doctor a Rory-style death glare. To be honest, the glare would do no more than kill a particularly lame moth, but The Doctor understood the intent behind the glare. Look after my wife, or else…or some such…

"Alright," The Doctor said to the moth-glare. "How's this? I put the mystery gifty on my little analysis frying pan and then we see what's inside without having to open it?"

"Much better," Rory said immediately and pompously.

"That takes all the fun out of it," Amy complained, drawling and Scottish.

"No," The Doctor said, encouragingly. "You can still open it if it's safe. And I won't spoil it, I promise. Unless it's something particularly nasty…or boring…" Amy looked unimpressed. "And if it's boring, you can fry it on my analysis fry pan!" He flashed her a grin and snatched the gift out of her hands. She gave a loud 'Oi!' in protest, but she was only met with a tap on the nose from The Doctor and a look of superiority from Rory.

Imagine that. The great and Irresponsible Doctor being cautious. Hmm. He hoped that reputation didn't stick. He'd rather be mistaken for human than cautious.

He flipped the little gift-wrapped box in his hand, pleased with himself that he caught it as it tinkered around his four knuckles. Nothing was more embarrassing than a cheap twirly trick gone wrong. He twirled the box again and placed it on a rusty-looking camper's pan. Of course, it wasn't actually a camper's frying pan. It just looked like one. It wasn't really rusty either. It was all part of the aesthetic, like the pinball machine and the marble set. Well, the pinball machine was for fun too, but that was neither here nor there.

The analysis fry pan spat and hissed, and the dials on the console around it began to whir. After a few seconds, in which The Doctor tried very hard to ignore Amy Pond's unimpressed face, the dials settled in place and the frying pan was silent.

"Is that it?" Amy asked, still unimpressed.

The Doctor had to agree with her un-astounded-ness. At least the pan could have gone "Ding!"

He'd fix that later.

"Aha!" he said, theatrically, in order to mask the unimpressiveness of his analysis gadget.

"What is it?" Rory asked, poking his big Rory head in front of The Doctor's. Completely useless, of course. There was no way Rory Pond Nee Williams could possibly read such a highly advanced piece of camper's technology.

"It is…" The Doctor glanced at the dials. "Ooh, lovely. It is made of sterling silver and weighs 32 grams precisely."

"So it's jewellery," Amy noted, her interest piqued.

"Ah Pond, don't rush to conclusions," The Doctor warned, although he was fairly sure that it was indeed a piece of jewellery. A bracelet perhaps. The warning was just to induce excitement. He was good at excitement.

"And…" he said, turning his attention back to the dials. "It was made in…" he stopped. No.

No.

"No."

"What?"

"No," he repeated.

"What?" Amy and Rory asked in unison this time.

"That is impossible."

"What's the matter?" Rory asked. "Is it dangerous?"

"Dangerous? Did you hear me say dangerous?" The Doctor asked. "I said impossible. It's impossible!"

"What's impossible?" Amy asked.

"Whatever is inside that box was never made." He didn't even need to induce excitement with that one. Never made! Imagine that. Never ever in the history of the universe and beyond was that mystery piece of silver something made.

"That's impossible," Rory said.

"Exactly."

Amy picked the box up off the analysis pan and turned it in her hands. "That doesn't make sense," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Are you sure that thing works?"

The dials were whirring again. Very unprofessional.

"Of course I'm sure. State of the art technology, that," The Doctor defended. "Makes a good omelette too. Best I ever had."

Amy raised an eyebrow. The Doctor huffed.

"Well then, what does it mean?"

"Could mean a whole lot of things, really," The Doctor mused. "Could mean that it was made out of something unable to be measured-"

"You said it was made of silver!"

Good point, Pond.

"Could mean it was made beyond the TARDIS's knowledge of time…"

Ooh. He liked that one. Beyond time. Before time.

Before time? Now why did that ring a bell?

Images of horned beasties and the fear of a Doctor past. A cave and an impossible planet. And the thought of losing his life, his self, his…

He shuddered. Past-self memories sometimes gave him the heebie-jeebies.

"Doctor?"

Oh dear. Lost in a reverie. Caught in a landslide, as it were. No escape from…wait, no. That was Queen.

"Shall we open it up then?" He asked, hanging on tersely to the thread of conversation.

"Yes!" Amy said, eyes sparkling like a child's. The Doctor smiled and turned his attention back to the frying pan and reread the no longer whirring readings. This was intriguing. Genuinely intriguing. Completely impossible, but definitely, genuinely intriguing.

"It's a necklace!"

Oh, he missed it. The big reveal. He jumped on the spot, turning back to Amy and Rory.

As usual, however, he was distracted. A piece of paper fluttered down from the box. He followed it with his whole face and scooped it up, mid-air, in his Time Lord hands.

"What's that?"

And before he could even unfold it, Amy Pond snatched it from his outstretched hand, exchanging it for the silver necklace. It tingled in his hand. Familiarly. He looked down at the object with a sudden, but far-away jolting and sinking of his two hearts. Two hearts. Just like the necklace. Not a particularly pleasant feeling. He knew why the tingling was familiar.

"What does it say?" he heard Rory ask, as he saw Amy unfold the letter out the corner of his eye.

Oh dear. This was very not good. Domestic and personal and not really about him so much as about the one with the suit and the trenchcoat, but still…it was him, and it was her and he really didn't want to hear whatever it was that was written that letter…

"_Rose_," Amy's melodious Scottish tongue began.

His stomach turned with the loss of a Doctor past and the embarrassment of The Doctor present.

"_I found this while I was packing. It was in your room. You left it behind last time. It won't happen again, I promise._"

"What won't happen again?" Rory asked.

She wouldn't get left behind again. Not ever. That's what.

Not that he was going to say that out loud. Domestic and squishy and sentimental.

Amy continued, "_PS – you were wrong. They're not both mine. There's one for each of us. Both of them for both of us."_

"What?" Rory asked, face scrunched up and unattractively curious.

Two hearts. The two hearts she had once told him reminded her of him. He remembered her telling him on the apple grass of New Earth. The memory was faded and old now, but if he tried really hard, he could still smell the mixture of apple and sea and Rose. The vague sense-memory left him feeling a little empty and funny inside, and he tried hard not to think of it again. Two hearts. They were now the two hearts that the two of them shared together. One human heart each for the human Rose and her human Doctor.

"It isn't signed," Amy said, flipping the note over in the hopes of finding a signature.

"He must have forgotten it," The Doctor mused, mostly to himself. He threaded the necklace through his fingers, rather unable to express to himself how he felt about it. There was some sadness there, and a little jealousy, but they were dull and rhythmic, calling out from the very back of his mind. Mostly he was curious. The grief and the tenderness that had come with his last incarnation had occupied every cell of his body then. Now it wafted in waves. Furry waves, like the kind children get when they don't get enough sleep of a night time. Curious. Intriguing and a little bit funny, a little wibbly wobbly.

He was a new man.

And that revelation brought about a whole new, furry kind of grief.

"Who forgot it?" Amy asked.

Who indeed? Him? Nope. The half-human version of him? Not really. Not _really_ really. It was once the half-human version of him, sent to a parallel world to be happy and to be with Rose Tyler for the rest of their days. But now? It was a half-human version of the him that he wasn't anymore. Not really him at all.

"Should we go and give it back?' Amy continued, staring at The Doctor just a little more sternly than usual.

"They won't be coming back for it," The Doctor said, more to himself than to his companions.

"They?" Rory asked. The Doctor ignored it. He stared at the silver necklace with its two hearts and its tingling. It shouldn't still be tingling. He had said, back on New Earth with his new new mouth that was now his old mouth, that the tingling was left-over radiation from the Bad Wolf. But it couldn't be. That radiation would have died off by now. Dissipated. But here it was, tingling his hand, familiarly and boastfully, after all this time. He thought of the camper pan's whirly dials and off-the scale readings. Was that why it tingled? Because it was never made? More to the point, how had Rose Tyler ever acquired a necklace that was never made? As a child, no less. Intriguing. Definitely, distantly curious.

"Can I keep it then?"

"Amy!"

"What?"

Amy and Rory looked at each other with the same sternness that Amy had just used ineffectively on The Doctor. The Doctor chuckled. Could it be that Rory had read more into The Doctor than Amy had? Trust women to be blinded by a pretty piece of bling.

Bling. Was that a word he used? Bling?

"Bling!" he tried aloud. Rory and Amy looked at him, all stern-faced and crinkly-nosed. Right. Not his kind of word.

"Well, can I keep it?" Amy said, holding out her hand for the necklace.

"Well…" The Doctor tightened his grip around the silver chain. "I should probably keep a hold of it," he said. "Just in case those pan-readings come out to signify something nasty."

He mentally applauded himself. Good job, Doctor. It was a lie, of course. He was fairly sure that nothing nasty would come of Amy keeping the necklace. But the wafting waves of loss that still blurred furrily through his mind told him that it would be completely and utterly wrong to betray his old self's emotions like that. That necklace had belonged to Rose Tyler, after all. It would be like giving a pair of Nyssa's shoes to Captain Jack, just because she wouldn't come back for them.

Actually, that comparison was rubbish. But the point still stood.

He tucked the necklace into his jacket pocket and shivered as it tingled his chest. It sat uncomfortably against his left heart, irritating and sentimental.

Amy frowned slightly, but seemed to accept his decision.

"So who was she?" she asked, waving the letter. "Rose?"

Ah, a question that so many people had asked him in the last few years of his long life. What had Rose been to him? More to the point, what was she now? She was certainly not the same to him as she was to the him who was really only half-him and really only half of the him that he used to be…

Now he was confusing himself…

"An old friend," he said, to appease the furry waves of sentimentality.

There was an uncomfortable silence in which The Doctor imagined Rory and Amy putting two and two together to come up with something entirely inappropriate and probably correct.

"Did you write that note?" Amy asked, eyes narrowed into what The Doctor liked to call 'the Detective Pond' face. Actually, he had never called it that in his life, but by Jove, he was going to start. Good man, Jove, come to think of it. King of Jupiter back before it was a gas planet.

"Never seen it before in my life," The Doctor said truthfully. Just because the half-human version of the self that he used to be had written that note, didn't mean he had any ownership of it whatsoever.

'Right," Amy said, clearly unimpressed with his answer. "Is this going to be one of those things that you don't explain till I've completely forgotten about it and lost all interest?"

"Maybe," The Doctor promised with a grin.

Amy rolled her eyes. Rory looked on, with a frighteningly sympathetic look in his eye.

Another uncomfortable silence wafted through the TARDIS. The Doctor could feel his own wafting emotions billowing through his long memory, as well as the tingling sensation that was now setting deep into his torso. Icky.

"Well," he chorused valiantly. "Where do you want to go today?" He ran around to other side of the console and pulled lever after lever. "Feudal Japan? The paradise planet of Parklah? Oh that sounds nice! Paradise Planet of Parklah! Lots of alliteration. Pretty plosives! Parklah then? Parklah it is!"

He was channelling his tenth incarnation. Frightening, and not particularly welcome at the moment, all things considered.

So he pulled another lever, pushed a few buttons and listened to the glorious sound of his TARDIS as it took him and his friends away from the wafty past, toward a bright future full of P words.

Now if only he could calm that tingling in his chest…

TBC


	4. The Lost Girl part one of three

_A/N: Hello and welcome back to the final 'moment' of The Locket, The Letter and The Lost Girl. For general flow ease, this last moment has been split into three handy bite-sized pieces!_

_*I would love to hear your feedback*_

_But mostly, enjoy!_

_

* * *

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**LONDON, 1993**

**(2 days later)**

"Of all the things in all of time and space, Rory Pond picks _Take That_."

The Doctor led his two companions through the streets of London in order to find pancakes. He was having a craving. He liked cravings. Like little food caterpillars. Only with bigger teeth.

"_Take Five_ is a decent, legitimate band and their 1993 concert was brilliant!"

The Doctor rolled his baby blue eyes. No amount of lame, hand-accented defence was going to convince him that wasting a day to see a random boy-band concert was better than pollen skiing on the Paradise Planet of Parklah.

"And Robbie Williams is fit," Amy added, for good measure, linking her arm with her husband's.

The Doctor shook his head. "Honestly," he said. "If I knew you were going to be all domestic, I would have put my foot down about the whole wedding thing."

"Oi!" Amy squawked, stomping on his foot with a quick, conversed foot.

It was a little bit of a lie, really. He quite liked domestics, nowadays. When they involved Amy and Rory, at least. Far more than he had in his previous incarnation. Very much a lot more than his ninth. But those domestics where different. Odd and vague and dull, though he remembered that they once brilliantly Rose coloured.

Such an intrusively symbolic name, Rose. Clichéd and too useful for sentimental reflection. And he didn't like that anymore. Sentiment. Nope, he was all for domestics now. Domestics and pancakes.

"Pancakes!" He called, spying a pancake parlour down the lane to his left. Good timing. It was helpful when Timelords had good timing. Especially when bad timing held severe consequences, like being ear-bashed by a redhead. Ooh, even her face was turning red. It was not a particularly pleasant match.

The Doctor made a mental note to chronicle that face for future reference. When met with Amy Pond, Red Face Edition – Run!

"You have eaten pancakes before, haven't you, Doctor?" Amy asked, following The Doctor down the lane.

"Never," he said, with a grin. "Not with this mouth." He and Donna had eaten Valussi pancakes once; his had been banana flavoured and full of syrup. But that was a long time ago. The taste of pancakes past. He couldn't quite remember it anymore.

"Oh no," Amy said, shaking her hair so that it waved red down her shoulders. "No, no, no."

"What?" The Doctor asked, pouting a little. He liked pouting. It was like upside down smiles.

"I'm not going to witness another food tantrum," she said, leading Rory back toward the main street. "I had enough of that when I was little, thank you very much."

The Doctor pouted so deeply that he could see his bottom lip. He lifted it up with his fingers. Imagine that. Seeing one's own lips.

"What are you, doing?" Rory asked.

"Pouting," The Doctor said cheerfully. "I've never been a pouter before." Although that, of course, was completely untrue. He picked up his bottom lip and flapped it to and fro for good measure.

"I'm leaving," said Amy. Amy Pond. Always arguing. "You can meet us back at the TARDIS when you've had enough."

Rory shrugged and followed his wife back to the main street.

"Rude," The Doctor sang. But he didn't dwell. There was a time for dwelling and it was not now. Now was the time for pancakes.

Sweet cardboard and cream, that's what pancakes were. The Doctor rubbed his tongue and spat. Yuck. Decidedly icky.

He wandered down the main street, enjoying the lack of matrimonial bickering. Here he was, in the London sun, sharing a stroll down the street with himself. Actually, there was no sun to be seen, but that was beside the point. The weather was rubbish and The Doctor was happy.

Except for that niggling little tingle that had sat in his breast pocket for the last two days.

"Pond!" The Doctor called, suddenly eager for his companions' company again. He jogged around the corner toward the TARDIS, the air swishing his jacket to and fro so that the little necklace no longer brushed against the too-thin material of his shirt.

"Pond," he said again with a smile, as he turned the corner to spy his female companion.

Ooh.

She was not alone, Amy Pond. Sitting with a wee kidlet.

"Hello," The Doctor said, wandering over and crouching next to the small girl. The girl looked away and didn't answer.

"Who's the kid?" He asked Amy, standing back up to his full height.

Amy shrugged. "Don't know. Rory and I were wandering Leicester Square and she was standing there crying. I think she lost her mum."

"Oh, that's too bad," The Doctor said, crouching back down to the little ball of blonde. "Did you lose your mum?" he asked.

The little girl nodded and looked at The Doctor. Big eyes. Big brown, 'give you what you want for Christmas' eyes.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Silence.

Completely, totally unhelpful. The shy ones were always the worst.

"See, Pond," he said, turning to Amy, "If you were this shy, the whole world might have been incinerated."

"Doctor!"

"What?" he asked, "It would have."

The little girl giggled. She had a toothy little smile. Cute kid.

"Where's Rory?" he asked.

"Still in Leicester Square, looking for her mum. He's been there for about an hour."

"An hour? Have I been gone that long?" He threw his arm in the air and caught his wrist, so that his jacket stayed bunched around his elbow. "Well I never," he mused, nothing but a set of fine freckles peering back up at him. "Freckles…"

He often forgot about watches. Seemed a bit ridiculous, that the Lord of Time itself should need a wristwatch. He didn't, usually. Actually, he just didn't care for the minute details of time like that. He could see decades and centuries and millennia. Seeing the passing of a mere hour was something like looking at a wrist and only seeing the tiny, countless freckles.

Well, it would be on Amy's wrist, at least. Gingers had frightful amounts of freckles.

"Well, then…" he said, his proactive brain catching up to his rambling brain. Not that he had two brains of course, only two hearts (and one version of him only had one of those! Although he didn't like to think about _him)_

…his proactive brain was lagging behind again.

"Shall we see what my dear old TARDIS has to offer? People locators, family recognition whizzers…you never know. We can find your mum faster than you can say Raxacoricofallapatorius," he looked solemnly at the small child, "Although, come to think of it, that might not be difficult…"

He patted her on the head and for good measure, clicked his fingers to open the TARDIS. Thank you River Song, for that handy party trick. Without turning around, he walked grandly and masterfully straight into the closed TARDIS door.

"Ouch!" he shouted, and the little girl laughed, flashing a pink tongue between her teeth. Cute. "That was definitely, unequivocally not an accident," he said, straightening his bow tie. "Positively on purpose, that head smack." He turned to the TARDIS door and frowned. "That wasn't very nice," he said to its door, pointing at is sternly before giving it a warm stroke. He took out his key. "Let's try the simple approach, shall we?" he asked, flashing a grin back to Amy and the little girl.

But the key didn't fit.

"What?" he asked, looking closely at the TARDIS key and vaguely wishing he still had his brainy specs. "What?"

"Did the same thing to me," Amy said.

"That's odd. That's very not common and a little bit not good." He tapped the TARDIS door. "Come on, dear," he said. "Please…"

He was disappointed to find that the door didn't miraculously open and he sighed.

"Why won't it let us in, Doctor?" Amy asked. "It always lets us in."

"I don't know," he said. "There must be something off, something paradoxy or interesting…" He licked a finger and walked in a circle. "Something that won't let us in…"North-north easterly wind, a hint of time-radiation (but nope, that was ok, it was coming from Amy) and that little hint of paradox, tingling in his breast pocket.

"Think, think…" he said, abandoning the weather-finger bit and tapping his head. The little girl giggled again.

Maybe it was her.

"Who are you?" he asked, coming to crouch next to the girl again. Her cheeks flushed and she said nothing. He took out his sonic screwdriver and gave her the once-over. She didn't seem scared by the sound or the green light, but she looked at him like a he was a bit of a madman.

…which, all things considered, was fairly ok.

_Human, human, human, human, human. _

Pleasantly uninteresting.

"What are you doing, Doctor?" Amy asked incredulously, coming over to them and holding the little girl's shoulders protectively.

"She might have been a beastie," The Doctor reasoned. "Disguised as a child."

"Like Prisoner Zero?" Amy asked, taking a step back.

"Don't worry," The Doctor said. "She seems human enough." Seems…but something was still not right. "Keep her occupied. I want to keep trying," he said with a gesture to the TARDIS. Amy nodded and sat down with the little girl, taking off her backpack and looking inside.

"Alright, dear," The Doctor said to the TARDIS. "Talk to me. Why won't you let her in?" He pressed his head against the TARDIS door. It hummed quietly into his ear. "Did you hear that?" he asked, excitedly.

"Hear what?" Amy asked, her hands full of pencils from the little girl's backpack. The child opened a small book and was doodling already. He loved a good doodle, The Doctor. A nice little picture was just what the TARDIS walls needed. He hadn't seen a good kidlet picture since…well, since Chloe Webber and the Olympics and…

The TARDIS hummed again.

Humming about the Olympics? What did that have to do with it?

The TARDIS hummed louder.

"What is it?" he asked, forehead against the door. "What's wrong?" Although to be honest, the TARDIS didn't sound groany or moany like she did when there was a problem. This was nicer, somehow. But still warning. He couldn't quite describe it. Come on, think!

"Where's Little Red Riding Hood?" Amy asked from the ground.

"What?" The Doctor spared a tiny moment to look at her hovering over the little girl's shoulder as she drew. Oh. Not talking to him. He looked back at the TARDIS and rubbed her windows. "Talk to me, old girl."

"You can't just have the Big Bad Wolf," Amy continued, although The Doctor wasn't really listening.

…or was he?...

"What?" he practically whispered. No.

"What?" Amy asked, only just hearing him.

"Nothing, never mind," he dismissed, turning his attention back to…wait. No. 1993, little blonde with a penchant for wolves…

"Bad Wolf."

"From Little Red Riding Hood," Amy said with a nod. "You do know the story, don't you Doctor? There's a little girl and she's going to her grandmother's for – "

"I know the story," The Doctor said, a little too dismissively. He jogged over to them and sat. There it was. A Big Bad Wolf. A Big Bad Wolf drawn by a little blonde girl with big brown eyes in 1993. That would make her seven. She looked seven.

No. No, no, no, no.

It would explain the problem with the TARDIS. If a person who was to be a part of the TARDIS came to see said TARDIS before the time that was supposed to be their first time, their whole history inside the TARDIS could be changed.

And the TARDIS wouldn't have wanted a single second of that time to be different. Just like The Doctor. Not a single second.

The TARDIS hummed again. Louder, triumphant.

The Doctor was surprised to find his hearts pumping a little too fast. He swallowed. He felt a little giddy. Just a wee bit, slightly giddy like a kid with icecream. Or a puppy. Not that she was a puppy. Not that she was…

She was her. Her was she! She was…

"Rose."

His voice came out just a little feathery with a tiny hiccup in the middle. Like a hormonal school boy. Like a hormonal school boy with spots. A spotty, adolescent, human…

She always made him feel human. Vulnerable and spotty and human. Even in his new body, with his new face and his new hearts. Imagine that! His new hearts didn't beat her name like his old ones had, at least. Even now, even with them pumping fast like a school boy, it wasn't the same. It was that eery, past, half-curious, half-odd feeling that on its own was enough to gather his attention.

His attention was gathered. Oh yes, it was gathered.

"Is that your name?" he asked. He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to say yes or no. Mostly, he wanted her to say no and prove that he was just being paranoid. It was the necklace in his pocket, making him think about her when he most definitely wasn't supposed to anymore. There was no chance that this was her. He was going to look a little bit like an idiot for a while, then be a bit sad for a while and then ignore Amy's face for a while and that would be that. Because he was wrong sometimes. And one of those times had to be now. Because this couldn't be Rose Tyler.

Because then he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

The little girl looked up at him with a little bit of fright and a little bit of relief. Big brown eyes all aglow and brown and wide and brown and so very much like Rose. How did he not notice that before? He was holding his breath. It couldn't be. It had to be. "Rose Tyler?"

The little girl nodded.

He was on fire.


	5. The Lost Girl part two of three

No way.

There was no chance that this was her. He was going to look a little bit like an idiot for a while, then be a bit sad for a while and then ignore Amy's face for a while and that would be that. Because he was wrong sometimes. And one of those times had to be now. Because this couldn't be Rose Tyler.

Because then he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

The little girl looked up at him with a little bit of fright and a little bit of relief. Big brown eyes all aglow and brown and wide and brown and so very much like Rose. How did he not notice that before? He was holding his breath. It couldn't be. It had to be. "Rose Tyler?"

The little girl nodded.

He was on fire.

"Doctor, are you alright?" Amy. Amy Pond. Amy Pond who was still sitting there next to Rose Tyler (ROSE TYLER!), her face all confused and concerned. Bless. Bless Amy Pond who was concerned over The Doctor's curious inability to deal with feelings that somehow died with his last self and somehow held on.

It really was curious.

"Er…well then," he was lost for words. His tongue was heavy and long and somehow furry feeling. He rolled it around in his mouth and stuck it out. He looked at it. Was this what being tongue-tied felt like? Curious indeed.

"Doctor?" Amy said again, looking at him as though he'd sprouted wings. He quickly checked his shoulders. No wings. Little Rose Tyler laughed. Imagine that. He made her laugh even when she was seven.

"Well then," he said, all vigour and bravado. "Shall we go find your mum?"

"Doctor, where are we going?" Amy asked, as The Doctor packed up Rose's port and took her by the hand.

"We are going to the Powell estate, Miss Pond, to take Rose Tyler back to her mother."

"How do you know where she lives?" she asked. "You do know, don't you? This isn't one of your daft plans?"

Amy Pond. So sceptical.

"When are my plans ever daft?" he asked, swinging a little hand in his.

"Well, why aren't we going in the TARDIS?"

Ooh. The TARDIS. Good point, Pond, even if she didn't know she had made it.

"Let's not talk about that in front of the kid, alright, Amy?"

"Why not?" Amy asked, frowny faced, like a frog. Ooh, he liked that. Good alliteration. He was really making waves with his words lately. Paradise Planet of Parklah. Frowny Frog Face.

"Because any recognition on her part in, oh, about twelve years time could set history on a slightly different course, and possibly, just possibly, leave me dead under the London Eye with a big old bald head and ears like an ape."

Ape. Ah, it had been a while since he'd used that word. A distant, vague while. Smacked into his face by the smile of that little girl.

And oh, how it made him giddy.

"You know her?" she asked.

"Not yet," he smiled back.

They walked together for a couple of miles. When Rose got tired of walking, The Doctor swung her onto his shoulders, carrying her in an almost fatherly way. She hadn't had a father of course, and the attention had delighted her.

He had to stop himself from trying to impress her. She was not allowed to remember him.

The brilliant thing was that it was so easy to be with her. She was only seven and he had never seen her with his new eyes, so in a way, it was like they were meeting for the first time. Technically they were, at least for her, even if she never realised it for the rest of her life.

"I'm John," he said, as they strolled. Amy frowned. He gave her a warning look.

"Hi John," little Rose said back, with a big toothy grin.

And there they were. The Powell Estate. The lucky moment was nearly over.

Oh, but what a moment! What a treat! It was times like these that he thought the vortex must surely love him. Here he was thinking that the last mention, the last bit of Rose Tyler he would ever get was a necklace and a note that tingled his chest and burned his hearts. And that they would forever haunt him because he would never be able to get rid of them, but their presence would upset him for as long as he had them. One last reminder of his failure as a man.

Wait a minute.

Oh, this was good. No really, this was brilliant. Fantastic!

The necklace.

He stopped in front of the stairs of the Powell Estate and laughed. Quietly at first, but then louder as he realised exactly what was going on.

"Doctor?" Amy asked, not for the first time. He shot her a warning glance in between his laughs and she corrected herself. "John?"

The Doctor hoisted Rose off his shoulders and set her down on the pavement. Seven, she had said. She was seven and she had come home one day with a necklace that her mother knew nothing about.

It really was a most ingenious paradox.

Aha! And there it was. No necklace around her neck. He laughed, giddily, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the necklace. It buzzed his fingers with the paradox he now completely understood. The TARDIS's readings had been correct. The necklace had never been made.

"John, what are you doing?"

The Doctor clasped the necklace around Rose's neck and smiled broadly. Brilliant. Spiffing! Ooh he liked that. Spiffing!

"I think this belongs to you," he said. Rose touched it and looked up at him, confused and nonchalant. Good. Just as it should be.

"Why are you – "Amy looked at him, sternly. Then her eyes went wide and her eyebrows high. "Rose…that's Rose?"

The Doctor nodded. "That's Rose."

Amy looked at Rose now, her eyes still wide. "You will explain this to me," Amy commanded.

"Maybe," said The Doctor, flashing her a grin. He wouldn't explain it. Well, he would explain some of it. Only the bits she needed to know. Not that this little girl would grow into the woman that the last incarnation of himself lived for. Died for, even. Although technically, that was the incarnation before that. He had died for her and in return had become the him that lived for her. "But first," he said with a considerable swallow, "We have to talk to Jackie Tyler."

They walked up the stairs and The Doctor counted the steps. One, Two, Three, Four…Don't seize up when Jackie Tyler glares at you. Five, Six, Seven…best not to make eye-contact at all, actually. Eight, Nine, Ten…oh boy…

"Mum!" Rose called, knocking on the door. "Mum!"

There was a howl and the sound of running feet and The Doctor felt bile in his stomach and prepared for a slap.

"Rose!"

And Jackie was suddenly at the door and Rose was suddenly in her arms, and The Doctor tried not to be disappointed that her hand was no longer in his.

"What have you done to my girl?" She yelled. Oh yes. Here we go.

"Excuse me?" Amy pushed The Doctor out of the way. "Your daughter was lost and howling her mouth off! We found her, looked after her and brought her home to you. And you ask what _we_ have done to her?"

Oh. Well this was new. Amy Pond versus Jackie Tyler. The excitement never ceased. This was brilliant.

"You found her?" Jackie asked, her face relaxing. "You found my baby girl?"

The Doctor smiled at the way her face slackened. She might be positively crazy, but Jackie Tyler loved her daughter. How could she not?

"Yes we did," Amy replied, continuing the rampage. Oh dear. That was not good. Very not good. "And where were you? Having a coffee? Mouthing to a pal and didn't notice her wander off?"

"Amy…don't…." Amy pushed him away. "No, really. Don't."

"I was working," Jackie said, stoically. Guiltily. "She was with her babysitter. Fat lot of good that did. She's getting the sack, if it's the last thing I do."

"Well," The Doctor piped in before it could continue. "If that's all then we'd better be on our way."

Jackie looked at him, confused and…oh no. He knew that look. Oh please, no. No, no, no, no…

"Why don't you come in for a cup a' tea?" she asked, suddenly all smiles. She flounced her permed hair just a little and looked at The Doctor from under her lashes.

No. Just…no.

"Actually, we'd better run," The Doctor said with a clap. "Got a big day ahead of us. You know how it is. Finding children, eating pancakes…don't much like pancakes, actually, come to think of it. Anyway, nice to meet you Rose, we really have to go."

"Wait!" Jackie said.

Quite right. That was no way to say goodbye. For the last time.

"Goodbye Rose," he said with finality. Beautiful, sad, relieving closure. He stroked her hair and she looked at him. Oh, the times she had ahead of her. "Goodbye."


	6. Th Lost girl part three of three

_A/N: This is the final instalment. And epilogue of sorts, to make sure the pieces all fit together nicely. Thank you very much for reading and letting me share this with you, it's been a whole lot of fun to write._

_Your feedback is golden!_

_Enjoy_

"Alright, spill."

Nothing like being back on the TARDIS with Amy and Rory. Nothing like being whined at by one companion and interrogated by the other. Well, it wasn't exactly his fault that he forgot about Rory a little bit while he took Rose home. It was Rose. Besides, thinking about Rory was Amy's job.

"It's a long story," he said and the second he said it, he regretted it. Amy was all fire and red hair, staring him down like he was a bad puppy.

"We can stay in the vortex till the end of time if you like," she said. "Spill!"

She looked frightfully serious. Oh dear. "What was the bit with the necklace?"

Ah. A starting point. Thank you, Pond.

"It's actually fairly amazing," The Doctor said, still a little giddy. "Even for me. It's a time paradox. You see, the first time I ever saw that necklace, Rose was nineteen and she told me that she'd had it since she was seven. Didn't remember getting it, but there it was. Her mum thought she had stolen it because it had these letters on it see, but the letters weren't what she thought, they were…"

Ooh, Bad Wolf. Right. Not essential information.

"…they were…just there. Anyway, Rose leaves, necklace stays on the TARDIS, Doctor finds necklace. Doctor locks necklace away till Rose comes back, but Rose doesn't find it, other Doctor does."

_Till Rose comes back_…not that he ever thought she would. Had never even let himself hope, and yet she was there that day. That day with the ghost town and Donna and Jack and the Daleks. She crossed time and space and realities to find him again. And he had let her go.

"What other Doctor?"

Oops.

"Er…did I say…never mind. Other person finds it, but forgets it and ends back in Doctor's hands again. Cue paradox. The necklace was never made, see. The Analysis pan said so. Remember the little camper van pan? With the rust and the…? Anyway, the necklace. Never been made. But at the time, I didn't understand, of course, because how can something never be made? It's impossible."

"Except that it isn't."

"And you're catching on, Pond!" He grinned.

"Well, I'm not. It isn't what? What?"

The Doctor sighed. Rory Williams was ruining his flow.

"It's a Moebius Strip. The start and the end of the timeline of the necklace are essentially the same place, and so it creates a big old time loop."

"What?"

"Why don't people study recreational mathematics anymore?"

The Doctor skipped to the console, picked up a piece of paper and tore it into a nice strip. He scrunched the other part into a ball and threw it at Rory's head.

"Oi"

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

He held up the piece of paper. "Ok. Imagine this piece of paper is time. The start of time, or at least, the start of this particular timeline is the day little Rose Tyler gets a necklace from a random but handsome stranger. Hoorah, free gifts and celebrations. Go along the line and you have Rose Tyler, all grown up, and her Doctor, on New Earth on the grass, talking about her necklace –"

"_Her_ Doctor?"

Oops.

"Go along the line and Rose Tyler is gone and I find her necklace, still on the TARDIS."

"Where did she go?" The voice was warm and concerned and sympathetic and Amy Pond all-over.

"Keep going along the line and she comes back, cue her room re-opening, cue her necklace being found again." Ignoring unessential, painful questions was really the only way to proceed. How on earth was he supposed to explain paradoxes if he kept getting sympathetic looks?

"And that was by who?" Rory Williams. Less sympathetic. More blunt. Like a truck.

"It's whom," The Doctor corrected. "And that's not important. What is important is that the necklace was back in my hands."

"With the note."

"Yes Rory, with the note. You were there, I was there, it was all very special. Moving on down the line, the three of us arrive in 1993 and I give Rose Tyler a necklace." He tapped the last end of the strip of paper, looking at his companions expectantly.

"The last event is the same as the first."

There we go. Rory Pond was finally catching up.

"Exactly!" He folded the paper over so that it made a circle. "Moebius strip! See? First and last events create a loop. A great big, wibbly wobbly, never-ending loop. Cue paradox!"

He grinned. Amy and Rory looked at him, wide eyed and empty. Humans. Did he have to explain everything?

"That necklace only exists within those years. I gave it to her in 1993, she left it for me in 2006, The meta-crisis found it in 2008 and Amy found it in 2011."

"Right…"

"What's a meta-crisis?"

Enough, already! "That's…too confusing to explain and not at all important right now. The question is, where is the necklace now?" The Doctor asked, ignoring them again.

Rory looked non-plussed. "In 1993," he said. "You just gave it to her."

"Exactly!" The Doctor said with a little jump. "So, in 2011, where is it?"

"It…it doesn't exist…"

"Yes! It existed in 1993 because I gave it to Rose and it ceased to exist in 2011 when we left the Paradise Planet of Parklah to see _Take That _in 1993, which by the way, starts in two hours so we'd better make this quick! Outside that time frame, it doesn't exist. It exists because she left it for me, but she only had it because I gave it to her. That's why it gave me the tingles. My superior Time Lord senses recognized that it didn't belong, that it wasn't right. It was never made. Brilliant!"

Amy was grinning. Rory was smiling slowly. Yes, they were with him. Ha ha!

"Come on, though. Isn't it brilliant?" he kept on, unable to help himself. Rose Tyler. Still amazing him. "A necklace, a tiny insignificant necklace defying time and space!" The Bad Wolf, once again proving to him that she was brought to him by fate. That they had been bound together her entire life.

And now Rory and Amy were staring at him. With that look. That knowing look. He hated that look.

"Who was she?"

He hated that question.

She was Rose Tyler. She was the Bad Wolf, created by time and space and the vortex and the TARDIS and Jackie and Pete Tyler. She was sent to him to save him. To save his life and then his soul, and then his life again, many times over. She was the saviour of his ninth existence and the reason for his tenth. She was generosity and curiosity and warmth and fire and golden, bright light. She was goddess eternal and fragile rose. She was…

"She was the stuff of legends." 

Four hours later and twelve years before, a little blonde girl lay in her bed in her little pink room and looked at the necklace in her hand. She thought of the kind-faced man and the red-headed lady. She thought of how he had called himself Doctor, and then John and that he knew her name. She closed her little brown eyes and saw his funny green wand and his blue box. She smiled at how he had talked to it and smiled at how he had talked to her, like she was an old friend; the most precious thing in the universe. And she smiled with the boundless, thoughtless love of a seven year old and wondered when she would see him again.

And in her dreams she felt a warm glow and a bright golden light and the words _Bad Wolf….Bad Wolf…_

And in the morning, she opened her eyes again.

And she forgot.

_~fin~_


End file.
